Page 52 of Toy Shop

He’s holding the butt plug he’d used on me the first time we met, walking up to me. The light from the candles dance and gleam on the pink jewel at the base, giving it a semblance of a diamond.

“I’m glad you chose this one.” Alistair’s eyes flicker from the toy to me. He kneels on the carpet, eyeing my bare opening. “I loved everything about that night, except the torture of not seeing your virgin butthole. It burned me to be withheld from the tender tissues slick and wet, then giving in. I kept going back to that evening, coming so hard to those images.”

He’s situated between my widely spread legs, slowly pushing the cold glass object in and out of my pussy. It isn’t meant for the benefit of my pleasure. I’m aware by now. He’s preparing me and the plug for a brutal penetration.

“Ass up, sweetheart.”

I do. Not high enough, though. In a snap, his fingers clench on my inner thigh, his voice demanding.

“Higher.” He’s pulling me upward as much as the ropes’ restriction will allow.

Alistair is absorbed in his ministrations, fixated on my hole. He wedges the plug inside, twisting and turning, smearing my juices on the tight nerve endings.

My heels dig into the carpet. My attempts to stay high by relaxing my butt and accepting the plug cause my legs to tremble. On any other day, I might’ve yielded, surrendered. Not today.

Failing to please Alistair isn’t even a fleeting consideration. I press my forearms to the carpet, pushing myself higher. The leverage allows me to release my butt cheeks, take in the plug, and make him proud of me.

“That’s my baby.” Alistair flashes a grin that’s there one second, then his all-powerful mask descends on his sharp features. “That pussy and your ass… Damn. I’m going to fuck you Nola, every fucking night. That pretty little cunt and ass are mine.”

His dark and clandestine eyes gravitate to mine. “Hope you’re ready.”

“Yes. Yes.” He doesn’t need my approval, but his commands while painting our future together drive me to blabbering, spitting words, panting heavily.

He stops the swiveling of the plug, pushing it straight in. The pressure on my back hole heightens like a hot rod just slammed into me all the way up to my eyeballs.

“Holy fuck,” I cry.

The agony curls inside me, a fleeting shot of pain that quickly converts into a simmering pleasure.

I open my eyes, searching for Alistair. His erection stands hot and heavy between his thighs, his gaze equally sinful.

“I’ll be working damn hard, Nola.” He pats my clit lightly, maneuvering his sturdy body to come on top of mine. “Damn fucking hard to be worthy of you, every single day.”

Before I can analyze whether he’s talking about me in general or my almost-coming-for-the-hundredth-time face, he’s shoved himself in. He doesn’t waste a minute ramming into me, one forceful stab after the other.

My breasts bounce, and Alistair takes one into his lips. At his lavish attention, the biting and kissing and tugging, my world twists and turns. It goes up and down on a rollercoaster I never want to get off of.

His two muscular arms bracket me, veins cording his biceps, pumping in his forearms the harder he goes. He meets my gaze, locking us in our invisible bond.

“Nola,” he grunts out. “I…fuck.”

With each stroke of his cock, the buildup in my belly grows. It’s ever-evolving, morphing into something unearthly in its magnificence. My ass is blissfully full. My cunt stopped belonging to me, now the exclusive property of Alistair Cromwell. My clit is rubbed and stroked from within, that it’s much like it’s being fucked too.

A droplet of sweat falls from his temple to my chest, the sensitized skin enhancing the sensation tenfold.

“I love you, Nola.”

The unimaginable happens. I understand that whatever I’ve been feeling so far was utterly meaningless, compared to the elation his words provoke.

They’re said between angry grinds that pin me to the carpet, as I’m being thrust so either my wrists or ankles are being pulled. But it overrides any-freaking-thing happening, landing in my ears, divine, and life-altering at once.

“You hear me?” He goes harder, his husky voice cradling my heart. “I love your powerful side, your wounded side. I love how you burn for me and ask for fucking more, how with one glance you chase away my demons. I fucking love you, Nola. I’m all the way in, crazy fucking in love with you.”

For a second, I hate my restraints. I wish I could grip either side of his face, for my fingers to be prickled by his beard. To pull him to my lips to announce the feeling is inexorably mutual, the same as he’s been showing me.

Another day.

“I love you.” I glare at him, transferring the touch he’s prohibiting from me. The words tumble into the room in a breathless sigh, given the way he’s pounding the air right out of my lungs. “I love you. For just,”—sigh—“being you.”

---